The Hour Of The Souls Poem

W.E.B. Du Bois has contributed greatly to contemporary sociological thinking because he began a conversation of what it means to be “other” in this American Society. In his conversation of what it means to be other he constructed and included three major concepts that continue to resonate till this day. His concepts include “the color-line”, “the veil”, and the “double consciousness” (Appelrouth and Edles, 269). Together, these concepts not only described past experiences of blacks in American society (e.g., slavery) but also continue to remind us that the relation of whites and people of color remains complex. In Du Bois’s own words, “the Nation has not yet found peace from its sins” (273).

Night, a time of darkness, a time in which dreams turn into nightmares. In Night, a memoir, Elie Wiesel creates a desperate and foreboding mood by using foreshadowing, word choice and repetition. Foreshadowing means to hint at a situation that might occur sometime in the future. Word Choice refers to the specific words the author chooses to use convey thoughts, emotions, strongly. Repetition helps an author make a statement more obvious to the reader.

In the memoir Night, by Elie Wiesel, the word night is repeatedly used as a metaphor symbolizing the conditions and emotions that the Jews struggle with during the Holocaust. Elie’s personal struggle with his experience evoke connotations of darkness that describe the inhumane treatment that Elie and the Jews are forced to endure throughout the memoir. In the beginning, Elie's town is invaded by German soldiers and soon, the Germans force all of the town's Jews to evacuate. After being thrown onto a freight train to Auschwitz, Elie experiences a whole new world filled with fear and hatred. Elie uses “night” to describe the struggles and hardships that he encounters throughout his experience. The literal meaning of the word night is simply the period of darkness everyday between sunset and sunrise. However, the metaphorical meaning of night, in this memoir, is far more sinister. As depicted in Night, the title metaphorically refers to the evil, hopelessness, and emotional coldness that the Jews are constantly forced to face throughout the Holocaust.

Night: a pitch-black time of day in which no light is shown, other than the reflection of sunlight off of the moon's surface. Darkness is scary when alone and can also be dangerous to those not cautious. Elie Wiesel is a survivor of something so gruesome but inspiring to all people who have read the Nobel Peace Prize winner's novel. Elie was trapped in a darkness he could not escape until the world once realized it was not all about themselves. To be free and living a life worth living then in a matter of seconds, being confined as though you are a zoo animal. Only to be observed at a distance with no pity or thought that lies behind those caged doors; And once that caged animal is released, not all of it is free.

Imagery is used throughout the story of Night to help a reader better understand the writer’s life. The author, Elie Wiesel, experienced many traumatic events while in the concentration camps of Poland. Through the use of magery, the author is able to create a more realistic rendering of his life. When in the camps, a bell signified the hour that the prisoners were forced to go to bed. Wiesel hated following a strict regime of orders. He transmits his feelings to the reader through his imagery used in the memoir. The author writes, “The bell regulated everything. It gave me orders and I executed them blindly. I hated that bell. When I happened to dream of a better world, I imagined a universe without a bell”

The following is a summary on the short essay The Dark Night of the Soul by Richard E Miller. This short essay is an essay that has been written with a main point always in mind, that reading and writing has very powerful influences people and their imagination but, the act of reading and writing is not being utilized as much in the modern world. Richard has created an essay that proves his point by taking five very different short stories and giving each a twist that helps the reader see the power of reading. As the reader is chronologically going through the essay he or she is given many possible meanings of the essay. The meaning and the

A morbid melancholy stole over me. Anxiety gnawed at my heart. I was a living corpse. There was a feeling of chill in the air every day as I felt. I faked illness so as not to go to school. Despair hangs heavy in the stifling air. It was a dreary day for me , cold and without sunshine. I dread people and always avoid people. The door was locked from the inside. A cold grey light crept under the curtains. The windows were secured with locks and bars. The room felt cold and sterile.The flowers faded for want of water. A single lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The clock ticked louder and louder in a quiet room. I regarded the room as a refuge from the outside

The story of And the Soul Shall Dance is a play of Japanese immigrant cultural. In the deserted area of America in the 1935’s one family in particular has been able to make the best of their situation and kept the upmost happiness in their family. While another family consist of a very abusive husband to his wife Emiko. Emiko fights her way to get back to Japan where her family and true love awaits her. During this time the great depression left a sense of poverty and relations between Japan and the US which turned rancid leading to Japanese Americans and laws that restrict them from their rights of property. And the Soul Shall Dance “refers to a line in a song Emiko sings about what happens when you drink a certain green wine”.

My soul is rested is an oral history regarding to American Civil Rights Movement. The book is written by journalist Howell Raines. Howell interviews different people who was involved in the struggle end of racial segregation. The story is taken place in 1955 during the time of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. In the story it contain different stories that told their views on the Civil Rights movement.

For some reason, the sounds become more frequent and loud when you're alone; especially at night. Right now, you're certain you hear footsteps in the hall outside your room, but you live alone. They're searching for you. And even though they never make it to your room, you feel afraid. More than just footsteps, you hear their voices. Some voices are familiar to you. They're the voices of people you once loved; people who you thought loved you. They've only been out to get you this whole time. You know this now, because they've started sending messages to your mind. How else could you hear their voices when they're not around? They say such cruel things. “You're worthless.”, “You're pathetic.”, “You never should have been born.”, “You should just die.”, “Everyone would be happier if you were dead.”, and that's not even the worst of it. As the night goes on, they just get more and more vulgar. Each insult cuts you deep. It hurts. You've thought many times of giving them what they want. The thought of dying actually seems peaceful compared to your new, terrifying reality. You could silence the voices forever. As you think this, the voices start edging you on, “Do it. Do us all a favor, and just die.” You cover your ears with your hands, but the voices still come through, seemingly even louder, “If you don't just kill yourself now, we'll come and kill you ourselves!” You start thinking that maybe you should. But there is one thing stopping you

The darkness seemed to agree with her, and stayed respectfully silent. There really was no one in the room with her. There were no voices outsides, footsteps or even the rustling of trees and bushes in the breeze. It was so quiet that it seemed to scream at her, threatening to deafen her, if it weren’t for the thoughts in her own head, screaming back.

How many times you’ve made me lonesome. Even when the often stained sky is but a hushed void, you still leave me to witness it alone; slouched on my wooden throne, strokes of blood softly flowing down these rosey cheeks. Shut up for me please. There’s far too much discourse to call this silence. Moths gather in my head, but in any case, it’s futile as they burn down in my dream, and after that, nothing’s left again. Shut up. I’d rather wake up to tomorrow's inadequate dawn.

The clock sung tick-tock tick-tock echoing in the room. My head was tilted towards the ceiling, as my eyes reflected darkness. Thousands of thoughts filled in my head, the fear of failing, the fear of life, the fear of losing the ones I love, the fear of getting judged. The fear engulfs me like a tide rises and swallows the sand, leaving nothing behind. The clock ticked once again. My fear twisted into a chain, imprisoning me like the coward I am. The chains hooked onto my limbs drowning me further into a bliss, I started to cripple underneath them. They taunt me, as if I was a helpless child shrieking for my parents, but with nowhere to hide.

A simple but sinister tune repeats over and over. The children join in with the laughter as they sing, full of joy. ‘Ring- a ring o’ roses’ the aroma of decomposing, rotting something is replaced by the fragrance of fresh roses, prim and perfect. It is unforgettable, a clear scent. It surrounds me. ‘A pocket full of posies’ delicate petals of flowers fall perfectly around me, I imagine them to be white, pink, red, an assortment of colours. ‘A-tishoo! A-tishoo!’ a mist falls upon the room I am being held in, it occupies all of the space left until it gets to me. My nostrils burn, whatever poison is in the air causes my lungs to splutter, spilling blood all over me. I can taste the familiar flavour of iron. ‘We all fall down’ I am trapped, my lungs cannot cope, they are only producing more and more blood for me to choke on. ‘Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!’ I am gasping for air now, not wanting to let go, not wanting to die. It comes in a whisper, so quiet, as if the children are sorrowful now. Lights flicker on, it takes me a moment to adjust, bodies hang from the ceiling clearly been here for a while, decaying. Their hands and feet have been tied too. Like me. ‘We’ve all fallen down’. And that, is when it goes

Imagine yourself on a cliff face, looking down over a vast expanse of darkness. Above you the setting sun turns the sky crimson red, bloodstaining your ragged robes. Not a single cloud is in the sky, yet to you, the land could not be more dismal. The darkness taunts you, it laughs at you. You try to ignore it, to grasp the one thread of sanity you still have, but it consumes you. You have no power; you are only drawn deeper into its embrace. It is inviting, warm. You allow yourself to sink momentarily into its arms. Your life flashes before your eyes.